NO PLACE LIKE HOME
The weather is turning. The sheet rain is approaching from behind me and the chances of outrunning it are no more than zero. Drizzle is fast becoming hard rain and I can see the hill walkers up ahead hastily grabbing their waterproofs. I consider pushing on regardless, looking to the cooling conditions as a reason to push harder and generate greater levels of body heat.
Ten metres into my new strategy, I stop and put on my jacket. I’m tired and still have the four peaks of this run course to do, all of them over 650 metres. Yet, in this strangest of years, there’s no place that I’d rather be. I’m halfway through the 26km run leg of my inaugural DIY ‘Clackman’ middledistance-ish triathlon.
It’s much more of a tiny gathering than a race, but it’s still great to be back chasing others, however hopelessly. What’s more, I can run home in ten minutes if I want to. This whole area has been my lockdown
